a quote from my favorite author

“The most solid advice, though, for a writer is this, I think: Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.”

-William Saroyan, The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze

Tuesday, August 6, 2013


There is only one more Tuesday until school starts.  It was a short summer this year.  It feels that way every year, but this year it is true.

Even so, my summer was packed with all sorts of good things.  And as I head into the school year, I am working harder than ever to hold onto the feeling those good things gave me. 

I really felt like my summer began when I headed to Indiana for the All-Write Summer Institute.  That experience propelled me into summer with a light heart, a slow pace, and a burning passion somewhere deep inside me to be better—at teaching, at writing, at collaborating, at life.

I had fully intended to capture all of these moments I was so determined to hold onto here on my blog.  But every time I tried to write how much Penny Kittle’s double session on the work of Donald Graves meant to me, my words felt inadequate.  It was a moving experience—one that is now part of who I am as a teacher and writer.  One that words simply can’t capture. 

So, I tried to move on to summing up how awesome it was to kick around Winona Lake with women from five different states who had just met face to face for the first time, but felt like the best of old friends.  Again, I found the experience to be so personal I just couldn’t convey what it meant about who I am and who I will be from now on.

Even when I sat down, with a huge smile on my face, to express the energy in the room when Mary Helen and Tammy presented the best books for teaching writing, I couldn’t seem to get it just so.  Mary Helen’s ability to make an entire room filled with people feel personally welcomed, like her words are one big group hug, just doesn’t come across the same when written.  Tammy’s outrageous stories about chickens, bees, and hiking up her skirt to climb ladders make her larger than life in a way that words cannot do justice. 

And so, many summer Tuesdays came and went without a single posted word.  Though not for lack of goodness to share.  Nor from lack of writing.  Maybe sometimes, some things just seep too quickly into our bones to be captured by words. 


  1. From your words to my memories, Christy. Like that old Streisand song, "mem'ries, light the corners of my mind". Great to hear from you!

  2. Christy, love your words and the title of this post. I treasure my time on Tuesdays when I get to spend time with my new "old friends". I also want to hang onto the good things as I head into this new school year with my old blogging friends by my side.

  3. Your words are just right today. They bring back memories I savor and hold close to my heart. I love your final observation, how true it is!

  4. Wow, your last line is just amazing. I think IT seeped into MY bones! :-) I'm so glad your summer was so full of wonderful things, and even more glad to read your words again! Enjoy these precious last few days!

  5. Oh. Goosebumps on that last sentence: "Maybe sometimes, some things just seep too quickly into our bones to be captured by words."

    Yeah. Wow. No words for that either.

    Just know you were missed and thought about often. As I already "know" you, you are already an awesome teacher, writer, collaborator, and person. So I can't wait to hear how your learning this summer is pushing you forward and spilling over with even more passion for teaching, writing, collaborating, and life. :) Capture it if you can.

  6. I am glad to read that you have had a summer filled with good things. Your last sentence says it all.

  7. When I grow up I want to write like you. Your descriptions are spot-on. I hope this summer was one of restoration and gently nudging you to become more, well, more YOU.

  8. Love the last line, and similar experiences; when I try to tell about how powerful my retreat was, it just sounds twee. That makes me sad. Your words make me realize I need not be sad; the inexpressible is inescapable in life, and that is a mystery to treasure.

  9. Beautiful post, Christy. I felt the same way this summer. But now, back to blogging!